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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29951529">Water of Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/krankittoeleven/pseuds/krankittoeleven'>krankittoeleven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Falls to Climb [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Don't Mess With Elk, Dreams, Hemming Ships it All, Hurt/Comfort, Ivarr is his own warning tag, M/M, Masturbation, Near Death Experiences, Oral Sex, POV - Vili, Pining, Vili Sass, Vili is Very Eager, canon adjacent, minor pain kink, pre-game</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:48:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29951529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/krankittoeleven/pseuds/krankittoeleven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Norway behind him, Vili tries to figure out his place in life among legends and history.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eivor/Vili Hemmingson, Ivarr &amp; Vili, Ubba Ragnarsson/Vili Hemmingson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Falls to Climb [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Possible minor spoilers for some of the stories Vili tells on the longship if you haven't heard them.</p>
<p>Uisge Beatha (oowish-kay bay-ah) is Gaelic, meaning water of life, and is the precursor to modern day Whisky.  It is the best example of hard liquor I could find for this time period, in this area, but I have taken some artistic liberties with it, like ya do.</p>
<p>This fic was meant to scratch an itch for Vili/Ubba that I had, but it became a bit bigger than that.  It spans the first three-ish years of Vili's time in England.  Sometimes hours or days pass between scenes, sometimes weeks or months.  </p>
<p>Not much about Ubba and Ivar are known, most of their RL history is speculation and likely never to be proven right.  I tried to find a balance between the game's storyline, the real life timeline of the Invasion of England by the Heathen Army (which the game does pretty well),  real info about the Ragnarsons and the myth of Ragnar Lodbrok's death, I hope I did it all justice.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hemming is talking and Vili hears his father’s words but his mind is far away from the ship. He is someplace else, with someone else.</p>
<p>“You must be wise in how you expend your energy, or you won’t have any left when you need it most.”</p>
<p>Eivor is smiling at him and…</p>
<p>“Ow!” Vili grabs the back of his head.  He’s laughing a little, purely out of shock, “did you just hit me?”</p>
<p>“You were ignoring me, like a daydreaming child,” Hemming offers no other reason.  From nearby Vili hears Trygve laughing.</p>
<p>“I was listening!”</p>
<p>“But did you <em> hear </em> me?”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Thor’s rage hammers upon their ship like nothing Vili has ever seen before.  It is as if the thunder god is angry at them for leaving their homelands.  As the rain pummels down upon them and the sky flashes with blinding light, Vili becomes certain they are going to die there, at sea, an ignoble death, but perhaps an appropriate one, for such fools as they.</p>
<p>Trygve is shouting orders and commands, to reel in the sail and the mast and the oars, for the waves and the wind could break them at any moment and doom them all.</p>
<p>Vili wants to help, but he knows not what he can do in such circumstances, he’s never been caught in a storm so fierce and so far away from land.</p>
<p>He makes his way to his father, an unbelievably calm presence amidst the chaos of the storm.</p>
<p>“What would you have me do, father?” Vili shouts, uncertain if his father can even hear him.  He grabs onto his shoulder from behind, to draw his attention, Vili tells himself, not because he has any fear.</p>
<p>“There is nothing you can do, my son.  If our fate is death, there is no worry, just accept it.”</p>
<p>What a fate it would be to die at sea, closer to home than to England.  </p>
<p>“If our fate is to live, then there is no worry and we stay the course.”</p>
<p>“You’re mad!” Vili shouts, but he is smiling.  </p>
<p>“Perhaps, but I am also right.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Ivarr the Boneless walks wide circles around Vili, small axe in hand, tapping it against his shoulder.  Vili feels like he is being inspected as if he were cattle and Ivarr the prospective farmer to buy him.  In a way it is amusing that—despite his imposing presence—Ivarr still has to look <em> up </em> at him.  Perhaps it was the reason for Ivarr’s wide circle around him, the further away, the less he had to crane his head to look.  </p>
<p>“Impressive Hemming, you grow them big in your part of Norway.  Do you have any more of them?”</p>
<p>“If you mean ‘do I have any brothers’ then the answer is no, I am an only child.”</p>
<p>Ivarr looks from Hemming to Vili, “Oh, is your name Hemming, now?”</p>
<p>“We carry the names of our fathers with us forever, do we not Ivarr Ragnarsson?”</p>
<p>“Some better than others.”</p>
<p>“No doubt, I wonder who carries it best among you and your brothers.”</p>
<p>“Your boy is full of-”</p>
<p>“Enough.” Ubba, mostly silent at the back of the tent, finally speaks up.  He is by far the biggest presence in the room, made bigger by his watchful silence. “Ivarr, stop with your horseshit.  Hemming, Vili, ignore my brother, he is ever the horse’s arse.  We are honored to have you and your many brave drengir here so far away from home.”</p>
<p>“The honor is ours,” Hemming replies with a sideways glance at Vili.</p>
<p>“All ours,” Vili agrees.</p>
<p>“Find a suitable place nearby for you and your men,” Ubba says, stepping in front of his brother, “East Anglia may yet be your home for a spell.”</p>
<p>Hemming nods, turns, and walks out of the tent, Vili follows after, with a grin at Ivarr as he leaves.  His father is waiting for him when he exits.</p>
<p>“I hope you aren’t going to chide me for my behavior,” Vili says quietly as they walk together.</p>
<p>“No, I would not.  Don’t ever let Ivarr think you are weak, he is a snake in the grass waiting to strike.”</p>
<p>“What about Ubba?”</p>
<p>“Harmless if he trusts you.”</p>
<p>“And if he does not?”</p>
<p>“Ivarr’s wrath couldn’t hold a candle to Ubba’s.”</p>
<p>Vili scoffs, eyebrows raised, “That’s good to know.”</p>
<p>They walk silently back to their longships docked along the river and pick an area alongside the Ragnarsson camp to make their temporary home.  </p>
<p>Vili hears a raven’s call as he sets up his tent and something constricts around his heart, like a hand squeezing tight.  He wonders if he will see Eivor if he turns around, Synin flying overhead.  He thinks himself foolish for the thought, then turns his head to look anyway but there is nothing behind him except the rolling hills of the English countryside.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Vili dreams of Eivor often, the endless blue abyss of his eyes, the curve of his muscles, the way his smile breaks Vili’s heart wide open, the deep pangs of longing he feels, like a great tree rooted in his soul.  He had wanted that last kiss to persist forever in his mind and in his heart, but it was too much of a burden to hang on one moment, their last night together being more than just a kiss, more than just the sum of its parts. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> They were more than that, too.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Or they could be.  Or they could have been. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He’s not sure which, anymore. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>We still can be, arse-stick, don’t worry.</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> In his sleep Vili smiles and in the waking world he smiles too. </em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Vili can feel the heat of battle coursing through every muscle and tendon in his body, every axe swing that hits its mark sends a thrumming through his arm, every blocked swing with his shield makes him tingle.  He feels unleashed now, unbridled in a way that he hadn't been in Norway, because here he has nothing left to lose, everything has already been left behind.</p>
<p>He moves with reckless abandon, heart pounding, breathing shallow, heated breaths until everything around him is still, except for the swaying of the long grass and the allies of the Ragnarsons that have won the day.  Gasping for air, Vili drops his shield to the ground, a sudden unbearable weight.  </p>
<p>“Might want to keep that in your hand.”</p>
<p>Vili swings his axe with great speed and almost takes the head from the shoulders of Ivarr the Boneless who barely manages to duck down low to the ground in time. Every sound on the field dies with the swing of that axe. Vili feels like the whole world is watching him.  </p>
<p>“You’ve got fire in your piss, Vili,” Ivarr says through a stunned laugh as he regains his footing.  Vili moves to offer his hand at first, but then thinks better of it. “But don’t get too caught up in your own head.”  Ivarr taps his temple. “It’s madness in there, for all of us.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you shouldn’t walk up behind someone on a battlefield,” Vili says, smugly.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Ivarr says walking away, “or perhaps not?”</p>
<p>Ivarr’s laughter follows him through the lavender field and Vili watches him until he is out of sight, disappearing into the golden afternoon, painted ever sweeter by raven wine and victory.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>In Vili’s dreams, sometimes, it feels like he never left Norway.  He can feel the biting wind on his nose, the snow under his feet.  The splash of water from breaching whales as they follow new waterways and explore the whale roads of Norway. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>What are you doing, arse-stick?</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Missing you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>You act like I am dead, we are only apart.</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> How would I know that you are not? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>How would you know that I am?</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His dreams always move in twisting spirals, where logic has no meaning and time has no end.  They could grow old together here, and then do it all over again. </em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The arrow hits the target with a <em> thwunk, </em>though quite a bit left of center, to Vili’s chagrin.  He hasn’t missed that badly on a stationary target since he was a kid, at least not while sober and feeling fresh.  He holds the bow out infront of him, looking for a defect.</p>
<p>Beside him Trygve inspects an arrow from the same quiver.  “Arrows don’t seem weak.”</p>
<p>“Bow looks fine,” Vili says with a shrug before he nocks another arrow and draws it back.  He feels a twinge in his left shoulder before he releases.  The arrow <em> thwunks </em> into the target, right next to the other.</p>
<p>“Well, that speaks for your consistency, at least.” Trygve is tapping the arrow head against his chin, questing for an answer. “Are you still drunk?”</p>
<p>“No,” Vili replies, “maybe I should be?”</p>
<p>He nocks another arrow and draws the bow.</p>
<p>“You are pulling to the left.”</p>
<p>Vili turns around, bow still drawn, arrow pointing towards Ivarr the Boneless, because who else would seemingly materialize out of nowhere behind him?  Vili looks down the shaft of the arrow at Ivarr, the twinge in his shoulder still humming. </p>
<p>“How is it that you are always sneaking up on me?”</p>
<p>“Because you are woefully unaware of everything going on behind you?”</p>
<p>Vili squints at Ivarr.  “How certain are you that I’m pulling to the left?”</p>
<p>“Very.”</p>
<p>Vili lets the arrow fly and it makes its satisfying <em> thwunk </em>ing noise in the wooden fence behind Ivarr, slightly to his left.  To the man’s credit, he didn’t move a muscle.</p>
<p>“Hm,” Vili says, before turning back to the targets, “maybe you’re right.  I was aiming for your eye.”</p>
<p>Ivarr snorts behind him and <em> just like that </em> closes the distance between them and then there is a sharp pain in the back of Vili’s shoulder, something digging into muscles with no mercy.  It is intense and invasive and when Vili tries to breathe he can’t pull a full breath, he wants to drop to his knees, to squirm away from it, but he can’t show weakness in front of Ivarr, not like that.  When Ivarr stops, Vili nearly gasps for air.</p>
<p>“Try again,” Ivarr suggests with a hard pat between Vili’s shoulder blades.</p>
<p>Vili shrugs and rotates his shoulders a few times, trying to shake out the residual pain.  He nocks an arrow, takes a breath and draws it back.  When he releases, it hits the target, still left of center, but closer by half.</p>
<p>Vili snorts and looks to Ivarr, but the man is already walking away.  “Find a woman to dig out the rest of those knots.  You’re tighter than a virgin sacrifice.”</p>
<p>Vili rolls his eyes, Trygve is laughing, almost falls off the barrel he is sitting on.</p>
<p>Vili reaches for another arrow, Ivarr’s words still circling in his head.  He’d never thought he’d been unaware of his surroundings before. In Norway he’d never felt like he had been exposed, but then again he and Eivor had always...<em> oh. </em></p>
<p>Vili scoffs and lets fly another arrow.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” Trygve asks.</p>
<p>“It’s very infuriating when he’s right.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Eivor’s head is on Vili’s shoulder, his hand palm side up in Vili’s lap.  They are sitting atop an old abandoned house, a burned out husk of what once was probably a family’s home.  They had found it when they were barely teenagers, riding on horseback through the sharp hills behind Stavanger and climbed its rickety frame carefully until they found a crossbeam to sit on. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> In this dream they are not children, but somehow the beam still holds them, the illogic of dreams unmeasurable. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Vili traces the lines of Eivor’s palm absentmindedly. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I’m lonely here, Eivor. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Well, why don’t you make some friends?</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It seems hard. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Not for you Vili, everyone always loves you.</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Do you? </em>
</p>
<p><b> <em>What do </em> </b> <b>you</b> <b> <em> think?</em> </b></p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>“Come with me,” Hemming gestures at Vili to follow him.</p>
<p>“Where are we going?” Vili walks quickly beside his father, he is always amazed at how has to <em> keep up </em>with him. He had always walked so fast, moving like the wind, ever since Vili could remember.</p>
<p>“Ubba wants to discuss plans to move North, to meet with Halfdan where he is camped in Mercia once winter starts to break, and then to Jorvik from there.”</p>
<p>“Jorvik?  That’s where their father was killed?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>There is something about Hemming’s short reply that sits heavy in Vili’s mind.</p>
<p>“So why do you need me?”</p>
<p>“Ubba told me to bring you.”</p>
<p>“Me?”</p>
<p>“You’ve made an impression, it would seem.”</p>
<p>Vili shakes his head, laughs. “I almost took Ivarr’s head off, and then I threatened to put an arrow in his eye.”</p>
<p>Hemming stops in his tracks.</p>
<p>“What?” Vili asks, looking back at his father.</p>
<p>“For a moment I thought maybe we were walking to our doom,” Hemming moves forward again, catches up with Vili in a couple quick steps “but this is Ivarr we are talking about, so you probably just made yourself his favorite person in the whole of England.”</p>
<p>“Oh.  <em> Great </em>.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>In the meeting, Vili stays mostly silent and even when he speaks, he doesn’t say much.  He is surrounded by men who have a much greater wealth of knowledge on the subject of planning and wars, they hardly needed his opinion; but he understands that this is not really about his input.  It’s more of a gesture of trust for his service to their cause.</p>
<p>“Vili?”</p>
<p>Vili snaps from his thoughts, looks around and finds everyone leaving the tent, only Ubba remains.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I was just...” Vili gestures to the maps on the table, “thinking of all this.”</p>
<p>“And?”</p>
<p>“Just planning ahead, I guess.  What happens after Jorvik.”</p>
<p>“Your confidence in our plan is flattering.”</p>
<p>“Well, it’s not so much about confidence as it is about...<em> me </em>.” Vili is walking a slow circle around the table, “If I thought I’d live to be one hundred, I’d probably think about that a lot too.”</p>
<p>“If we are successful, perhaps the skalds will keep us alive in their songs one hundred years from now.”</p>
<p>“Don’t say that.” Vili is laughing, “I’ll have to start writing down their verse and I am <em> not </em> a skald.”</p>
<p>Ubba laughs at that.  It is a nice sound, warm and friendly.  It betrays everything he’s ever heard about Ubba Ragnarsson.</p>
<p>“So, what do you see?” Ubba gestures towards the map, like he’s giving Vili permission to lay waste to his careful planning.</p>
<p>“I see enemies all around us.  Donecaestre, Snottingham, Torksey, Repton, all surrounding Jorvik if we take it.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Halfdan wants to install someone in Jorvik so he can push North.  And we would move to the west, towards Snottingham and Repton.  Build support around Jorvik.  I try not to think too far ahead, we have more enemies here than allies and right now my brothers don’t see much beyond revenge.”</p>
<p>Ubba looks weary, and Vili can sympathize, he would be weary, too, if Ivarr was his brother.  Only time would tell about Halfdan. “You’re not worried about leaving the south?”</p>
<p>“Uneasy maybe, but not worried.  I have confidence in Guthrum and he has allies that he trusts.  It’s their Saxon counterparts that give me pause.”  Ubba settles beside Vili, leaning over the table, he’s tapping the map near the center of East Anglia.  </p>
<p>“King Edmund is the one I trust the least. His people have paid a geld to us, on a very fine string, but he has not declared anything, one way or the other.”</p>
<p>“Can you leave some more men behind?”</p>
<p>“Perhaps.  I suppose that will have to be enough.” Ubba turns around, rests his body against the table. “I cannot let Ivarr and Halfdan go to Jorvik without me, and believe me, they would.”</p>
<p>“So, what happens, after you have your revenge?”</p>
<p>“Then maybe we can have our lives back?” Ubba shrugs. “Like I said, I have not tried to think that far ahead.  We may all end up dead a year from now.” </p>
<p>“This won’t be over, not for a long time, if total conquest is the end goal.”</p>
<p>“I know.  It is a good thing we are still young.”</p>
<p>“Some of us more than others.”</p>
<p>Ubba’s laughter fills the tent.</p>
<p>“My brother said you have a sharp tongue.”</p>
<p>“I would have thought he’d have mentioned my sharp arrow.”</p>
<p>“Oh, he mentioned that, too.  He likes you, you know.  He just has a funny way of going about it.”</p>
<p>“Yes, <em> funny </em>.” Vili rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“If he seems like he’s torturing you, it’s just because he wants you to be prepared.”</p>
<p>“For what?”</p>
<p>“Anything. <em> Everything </em>.” Ubba places a hand on Vili's shoulder, where it lingers just long enough for Vili to notice, his voice just slightly softer than before. “Thank you for your council, and your company.”</p>
<p>Vili rubs his hand through his hair, tries to knock the tingling sensation out of his brain.  “You did all the work, I just read the runes you lined up neatly on the table.”</p>
<p>“Interpreting someone else’s work is its own kind of skill.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>Vili roams the outpost, small axe in hand, moving from body to body looking for silver and anything useful that hasn’t been ruined by blood or blade. Vili can see wolves running to and fro in the shadows of the nearby woods, waiting impatiently to feed on the dead.</p>
<p>Vili hears the snapping of a small twig in the grass. He goes tense, spins around, hand axe ready to swipe and finds Ivarr behind him once more, grinning despite the axe that had swung so close to his face.  </p>
<p>“You heard me and I didn’t even have to yell.”</p>
<p>Ivarr grins, kicks a few dead limbs around. </p>
<p>“I’m starting to think you just have a fondness for my backside.”</p>
<p>“Ha, you got the wrong Ragnarsson for <em> that </em>,” Vili blinks, trying to process the information he has just been given. “I just think you have potential.”</p>
<p>“Potential for what?”</p>
<p>“To not die.”</p>
<p>“I suppose that is a sought after trait around here.”</p>
<p>“Carry on mighty drengr.  In the words of these Saxons, you are doing God’s work.  It’s just not <em> their </em> god’s work.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>“You stare out into that field like you expect someone to come walking over that hill at any moment.”</p>
<p>Vili tilts his head to the side and gives Ubba a small shrug, sips more mead from his mug. </p>
<p>“Maybe I do.”</p>
<p>“Oh, did our young Vili leave a fair maiden behind in Norway?  A great shieldmaiden, perhaps?”</p>
<p>Vili laughs and smiles brightly at the idea of Eivor as a ‘fair maiden’.  “No, not a maiden.  A good...companion.”</p>
<p>“Ah, a dog then?”</p>
<p>Vili laughs again, louder.  Being teased by Ubba in this way is something entirely unexpected but not unwelcome.  It is a comfort to find someone to joke with. “Yes, my childhood dog is going to come trotting over that hill there, any moment now, you drunk old man.”</p>
<p>Ubba snorts and wiggles about the small jug in his hand, “I am neither of those things.  And to think I came with a gift only to get your sharp tongue as a reward.”</p>
<p>Vili studies the jug with curiosity, “How about a truce, then? If you stop calling me young, I will stop calling you drunk.  And you will share what’s in that jug.  Do we have a deal?”</p>
<p>Ubba’s eyes appear lit by a strange kind of light.  “My brother was right about you, full of piss and fire.”</p>
<p>“Do we have a deal?”</p>
<p>“Aye, a deal.  Though I might want to renegotiate the terms at a later time.”</p>
<p>“That’s going to depend entirely upon what’s in that bottle.”</p>
<p>“They call it <em> uisge beatha </em> in the north.  It means water of life,” Ubba grabs the two cups he had set aside on a nearby tree stump and fills them both half full. “It comes down from the north and gets traded around amongst the Saxon’s.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never seen any before, that I know of,” Vili takes the cup offered to him and sniffs the liquid.  It smells unlike anything he’s even been expected to drink before; like something undefinable aching to be defined.  A sentiment Vili could understand.</p>
<p>“It does not come cheaply, you’re more likely to find it in a monastery than on a soldier, but they do get it from time to time.  But even if it were more common, you’d have to get ahead of Ivarr.  He snatches it up whenever he can.”  </p>
<p>“Is that why he is always prowling around battlefields?”</p>
<p>“Probably,” Ubba sniffs the liquor and then raises the cup, smiling, “to our new deal.”</p>
<p>“<em> Skål.” </em></p>
<p>The liquid feels like the most pleasant fire traveling down Vili’s throat, sending tendrils of warmth through his veins.  It catches his breath and lights it on fire, makes something burn behind his eyes, makes his brain fuzzy and warm.</p>
<p>“I can see why Ivarr covets it,” Vili manages after a moment. “That is unlike beer or mead, or <em> anything </em>.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Ubba refills Vili’s cup, full this time, then sits on a bench near the fire.  </p>
<p>Vili sits on the ground between Ubba and the fire and keeps watching the sunset, now almost gone.  He sips the <em> uisge </em> slowly, he wants to savor it, knowing that it’s hard to come by, but he also wants to drink it down.  Every sip sends tendrils of warmth from his chest down to his thighs and it sets the colors in the sky shimmering ever so slightly.  It reminds him of the time he and Eivor had gotten sick from poisonous mushrooms.  Devastating sickness aside, it had given everything a hazey, shimmering quality.  </p>
<p>For a while they just sit in silence and warmth, until Ubba speaks again.</p>
<p>“You know our fathers knew each other, right?” Ubba’s voice is a soft, soothing melody on the wings of this strange but pleasant feeling. </p>
<p>“I suspected something like that, I didn’t think he would uproot our lives for just <em> anything </em>.  But he never told me directly.”</p>
<p>“Aye, they grew up together, though there was a bit of an age gap, and that set them on different paths eventually.  I remember meeting him, a few times in Alrekstad and Stavanger.  Probably before you were born.”</p>
<p>“What was it you were saying about not being old?” Vili smiles, lays back on the dirt when the last bit of the liquor is gone.</p>
<p>“Bite your tongue, I was a child, more or less.”</p>
<p>Vili laughs, looking up at Ubba from the ground.  “I wonder why he never told me.”</p>
<p>Ubba shrugs, “Some people are like that, they just don’t talk; about <em> anything </em>.  But that is why you should listen when they do.  Those people will rarely feed you horseshit.”</p>
<p>“So what you’re saying is that I should listen to my father and never, under any circumstances, listen to your brother?”</p>
<p>Ubba laughs, “Ivarr has many truths to speak, but there is definitely a maze of horseshit to wade through.”</p>
<p>For a moment, everything is quiet around them and Vili finds the silence suddenly unpleasant.</p>
<p>“Tell me something,” Vili says.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“<em> Anything </em>, just keep talking.”</p>
<p>Ubba tells him a story about getting drunk with Halfdan in Alrekstad when they were about Vili’s age, how they almost burnt the place to the ground.  The tendrils of longing twist their way around Vili’s heart, the story so similar to time spent with Eivor in Stavanger.  Vili focuses on Ubba’s voice, tries to push away the longing, <em> just once </em>, so he can exist without feeling the guilt of leaving Eivor behind.</p>
<p>Without being prompted, Ubba begins another story and Vili listens quietly until everything <em> fades </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Vili’s dreams are filled with warmth and fire.  He tumbles through a vast, blue abyss, falling for eternity until he is caught in a web of roots that twist and turn around him, pulling him deep underneath the English countryside.  It is quiet and peaceful and from there he feeds the soil, for Eivor, for Ubba, for whoever needs it. </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>Vili wakes a few hours later, lying curled beside the dying campfire, feels something fluttering against his cheek and sits, realizing slowly that Ubba had draped his cloak over him while he slept.  He smiles, runs his hand through the fuzzy collar and stares at the horizon glowing faintly with the rising sun.  </p>
<p>Vili stands and collects the cloak and slowly makes his way back to his tent, the remnants of the <em> uisge beatha </em> still strumming in his head.  </p>
<p>In his tent he flops onto his bed, asleep again before his head hits the pillow, Ubba’s cloak held loose in one hand, the softest hint of a smile on his face.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>They feast often while passing away winter in East Anglia and Vili enjoys the feasts, the bonfires, the noise and the singing, but with no longhouse or other solid structure, he always ends the night feeling damp from winter drizzle or the moist air from the sea, a feeling he can never seem to shake.  Whenever he can, Vili stakes out a seat by the fire to keep himself dry and warm.</p>
<p>As is the usual, Ivarr is the center of all debauchery on this night, drinking and starting fist fights, scream-singing at the top of his lungs until someone tells him to shut up, usually Ubba or one of the camp seers trying to make their divinations in relative peace, and anything is peaceful when compared to Ivarr’s roiling chaos.  </p>
<p>They’ve developed a weird sort of coexistence, one where Ivarr annoyed him endlessly and Vili took it and humored him, and in exchange, Vili hoped Ivarr wouldn’t lob his head off one day, for fun.  Granted, he’d have to stretch to reach, but Vili was certain Ivarr could do it.  He was crafty, he’d probably use a chair.  </p>
<p>He was the murderous, irritating, insane older brother Vili never had, and had never wished for, either.  But Ubba had been right, there was a font of knowledge waiting in Ivarr’s labyrinth of shit, you just had to wade around a little to find it. </p>
<p>Ivarr dances on a long table, though Vili uses the word dances in the loosest possible sense.  He sort of rocks back and forth between two women, one at each side, burping and laughing and drinking.  Vili has yet to figure out where these women come from, they seem to appear when needed and disappear when not, as if Ivarr conjures them, then gobbles them up when he’s finished.  It would not surprise him in the least to find out that this was true.</p>
<p>At the other end of Ivarr’s makeshift stage, Ubba sits with Vili’s father and they are talking to two other men, Danes from the look, and brothers judging by their similar appearance.  Some of Guthrum’s men that had been placed in East Anglia probably, which meant they were good allies to have around.</p>
<p>Vili watches them between sips of mead, trying to figure out what they are saying, though he had never been good at reading lips.  He could go over there, he’d be welcomed to the conversation, but he is warm and dry and cozy by the fire, so instead he just stares softly at Ubba and waits for him to notice.</p>
<p>The first time Ubba had caught him staring, not long after he’d so gracelessly fallen asleep by the fire, Vili had reacted in the most suspicious way from the sheer panic of being caught. He had looked away immediately, certain his entire being had turned blood red at having been noticed.  He snickered into his hand, chewed on his thumb and when he had looked back he found Ubba was still watching him, contemplating him from afar.  How quickly he had gone from being the instigator to feeling like prey. </p>
<p>The second time Ubba had caught him staring his breath hitched and refused to leave his lungs, but Vili hadn’t looked away, not that time, and not ever again.  </p>
<p><em>Now </em> it is a game for Vili to play, to sit and wait in quiet contemplation until Ubba’s gaze is drawn to him, as it almost always is, and they stare and look and ponder until one of them is forced to turn their attention elsewhere, or is forced to leave the other’s sight altogether.  When it happens, something catches in Vili’s throat, a warm and fuzzy sensation, like when he drinks that perfect amount of mead and feels heady and <em> good </em>.</p>
<p>It takes an unbearable amount of time for Ubba to meet his gaze this time, his attention thoroughly cornered by Vili’s father and their two guests until the visitors are standing to leave and Vili catches Ubba sneaking a glimpse past one of the brothers.  Loose enough with mead, Vili half-smiles back until Ubba jerks away his gaze.  The fuzziness in his throat explodes and travels in a frenzy to his stomach, turning up butterflies.  It was rare he got anything other than a stoic reaction out of Ubba and he wants to savor it.</p>
<p>When Ubba makes for his council tent, Vili resigns himself to another stalemate in his one sided game with Ubba, until he notices Ubba staring back at him, very directly, before ducking in through the opened tent flaps.  The butterflies in his stomach return and Vili wants nothing more than to chase after him immediately, but he knows that he would probably draw too much attention that way, so he finishes his mead in slow, agonizing sips, pretending to enjoy Ivarr’s ludicrous displays of drunken debauchery.</p>
<p>When the wait is too long and the desire too unbearable, Vili makes off to Ubba’s tent with slow, deliberate steps.  The tent flaps are open and he ducks in without announcing himself. </p>
<p>Ubba is, as always, hunched over the table, arms spread wide and holding up his formidable frame.  Vili sometimes wonders what he does all of this map reading for, surely it wasn’t just rote memorization, especially this late at night, when candlelight was not practical to see the finely detailed maps by.  On the table is a dark bottle and two intricately carved wooden goblets, both filled with a deep dark liquid, made darker in the candlelight.</p>
<p>“Am I so predictable?” Vili asks, grinning.</p>
<p>Ubba looks up from the map, snorts out a laugh.  “No, in fact I was finding you quite the opposite.  This is not the first time I’ve set out a drink for you, thinking you would follow me here.”</p>
<p>“You are very hard to read,” Vili says, a little surprised to hear this.</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s why I tried a more direct tactic this time.”</p>
<p>Vili reaches for one of the goblets and sniffs, finding a sweet but musky smell in return. “What is it?”</p>
<p>“Wine, from the Frieslands,” Ubba replies, taking a small sip. “But be warned, it’s not like the wine you are accustomed to in Norway, it’s not made from berries.”</p>
<p>Vili sips, its sour-sweet and that muskiness remains, and there is something else he tastes, like something old and woody.  “What is it made from?”</p>
<p>“Grapes.”</p>
<p>“It's interesting.” Vili had heard of grape wine before, something the monasteries of Francia and even England had taken a hand in producing.  “But the Frieslands are across the North Sea, aren’t they.  Seems a bit rare to find here.”</p>
<p>“Aye, I brought it with me.  I am a <em> dux </em> to the duchy of Dorestate in Friesland, a title rightly given after I killed the previous <em> dux </em>, and my drengir ran his men from the land.  That’s where I was before we came here.”</p>
<p>Somehow Ubba manages to seem even bigger as he speaks of his conquest and Vili is content to listen and sip the wine, smiling over the goblet.  </p>
<p>“My father says the Frieslands are in a constant state of war, it can’t be easy to be away.”</p>
<p>“I am not as attached to it as other places, it has strategic value only, no real sentimental attachment.  I have a trusted drengir in my place, I have faith that he can hold it until my return.  And if not,” Ubba makes a vague gesture in the air, “Valhalla will surely await him, and his problems will be over.”</p>
<p>“<em>S</em><em>kål </em> to that,” Vili says softly, and finishes his wine.  Ubba steps in close to pour another and after he sets the bottle down, he does not step away.</p>
<p>“Those two Danes I was speaking with earlier, they came with news of the goings on in the rest of East Anglia, but also they brought this.” He gestures to some papers on the table. “It is word that my man in Dorestate will send supplies and a few more sturdy men to Halfdan’s camp in the spring.  It won’t tip the scales, but it will be helpful.  I was trying to plot out the route they are planning to take through the rivers when they arrive.  We will likely need to clear some outposts for their smooth travel.”</p>
<p>Ubba is very close and the scent of wine is very heavy between them.  Vili laughs, strangely nervous in this setting.  The Ubba Ragnarsson he had heard of in stories and the Ubba Ragnarsson that stood before him were different, one a bloodthirsty killer, the other a multi-layered conqueror with extraordinary vision and a surprising lack of bloodthirst, as far as Vili could tell.  In fact, he seemed a little tired of fighting, and it was this second Ubba that was both more tantalizing and terrifying.  </p>
<p>“Something funny?” Ubba asks, curiosity raising his eyebrows in the candlelight.  </p>
<p>“I was just thinking how you are very different from how you are portrayed in stories.  But I suppose that’s why my father told me never to believe them.”  Vili reaches out towards Ubba’s arm, traces his fingers down the tattoos of his forearm normally covered by his leather bracers.  “You know, you don’t <em> have </em> to get me drunk.”</p>
<p>“No?” Ubba’s question is quiet, his voice deep, he puts a hand on Vili’s stomach, letting it rest there with a gentle touch.</p>
<p>“No,” Vili echoes, “although I will never turn away exotic drinks.  Besides, I was already almost there when I came in.”</p>
<p>Ubba laughs, deep in his chest, the heat from his hand is seeping through Vili’s tunic.  Ubba is guiding him away from the table, away from the most direct line of sight through the tent flaps, turning him so they face each other, his hand sliding to Vili’s hip, pulling up the fabric to rest it on his bare skin.  Vili’s breath hitches sharply in his throat and without thinking he closes the space between them and presses his lips firmly against Ubba’s, then quickly breaks away, thoroughly unaccustomed to having to reach up for something, even if only slightly.</p>
<p>For a moment time stands still, Vili surprised by his own <em> want </em>, their lips close, breaths mingling, mixing the smell of mead and wine.  He thinks he can taste desire when he breathes in and then Ubba’s hand is in his hair, nails digging into his scalp bringing their lips together again, Vili surrendering to his methodical, deliberate bites and licks, Ubba’s other hand under his tunic, holding them close together, both growing harder against each other.  Vili presses his fingers hard into Ubba’s bare biceps, badly wanting to feel as much of the other man as he can.</p>
<p>And then Vili hears it, almost misses it in the sounds of their groans and their breathing, but he hears footsteps, coming closer.</p>
<p>“Someone’s coming,” Vili whispers as he pulls himself away from Ubba, he can hear Ivarr talking and someone else?  His father? There couldn’t possibly be a worse combination<em>. </em></p>
<p>Vili maneuvers around Ubba, their hands brushing for a brief moment, then he’s grabbing the wine glass and downing it while he runs a hand through his hair, en route to the other side of the big table, leaning over the map like Ubba often does, trying to exude an aura of seriousness instead of an aura of <em> please fuck me</em>.</p>
<p>He gives Ubba one last smile across the table before Ivarr and Hemming enter the room, and he can tell Ubba just wants to not be <em> there </em>anymore.  And Vili is completely fine with that as long as Ubba takes him along.</p>
<p>“Oh, Vili,” Hemming looks surprised to see him and Ivarr, Hel curse him, just smiles from ear to ear.  Even in the flickering candlelight, Vili is certain Ivarr knows exactly what’s going on.</p>
<p>“Father, Ivarr.”</p>
<p>“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?”</p>
<p>Ivarr ignores Ubba completely.  “What are <em> you </em>doing here?”</p>
<p>Vili glares at Ivarr.  “We’re going over potential outpost targets up the river some to clear the way early for the longships come spring.”</p>
<p>Across the table, Ubba’s eyebrows rise a little and Vili wants to laugh. His father is staying blessedly silent, but Vili is almost certain Hemming will figure it out.  It was not a sore spot between them, but there was a difference between your father knowing and your father <em> knowing </em>.</p>
<p>“I see,” Ivarr says, leaning forward to study the map, “and you were doing this on a map of Friesland?”</p>
<p>Vili closes his eyes, drops his head and curses Ivarr’s name wholly and completely, stopping short of cursing his family only because of Ubba.</p>
<p>Vili looks up when he hears papers rustle and fall to the table.  “I received an update from Dorestate, I was just showing Vili where it is.”</p>
<p>“Ah yes, your little duchy.”</p>
<p>“They are sending supplies in the spring.”</p>
<p>“Well, they are, by rights, <em> your </em> supplies.”</p>
<p>Vili had to admit, if this was happening to anyone else, he might find it funny.  He starts straightening up to his full height.</p>
<p>“Well, I think I’ve had enough fun for one night. Father, Ivarr.” Vili smiles at each, then looks at Ubba, still smiling. “<em>Ubba</em>.”</p>
<p>He makes his way out of the tent before anyone can finish a reply and before his head explodes entirely.  It wasn’t subtle, but it was necessary.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p><em> Vili’s dreams are full of Eivor </em> and <em> Ubba, one fucking Vili, Vili fucking the other. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> It makes no logical sense, the three of them aren’t together in the dream, they aren’t even in the same place.  It’s like he’s two different people, in two different times, one where Ubba is pushing his face down into gray furs, fucking him from behind, both gasping and groaning and breathing heavy, Vili clawing the fur below him, and the other, Eivor is riding as Vili thrusts deep inside, both of them moving like they are on waves and Eivor’s moans are like a song... </em>
</p>
<p>Vili wakes himself with a whimper, grinding into his bed, his erection rock hard between him and the bedding.  He licks his hand, slides it down, wraps it around his cock, his body sweaty despite the cold, and he squeezes his erection just that right amount before he starts fucking into his hand.  </p>
<p>He thinks of Eivor, he thinks of Ubba, he gasps and moans softly into his pillow, his lust thick in his throat and in his stomach, and coursing through his veins and his muscles, an aching, tingling feeling that throbs deep inside him until he find his sweet release.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the long wait to update, I had some annoying blocks in the brain, plus this chapter is almost 10k words, so it's kind of like 2 chapters in one.  Once again, light spoilers for stories that Vili tells you on the longship.  I wanted to have Halfdan in this chapter but so much of what happens is personal to Vili and he’s only just met Halfdan, so it didn’t seem like good timing.  Next chapter he should play a part.</p>
<p>Tattoos come up more in this chapter, along with his canon arm tattoos my headcanon is that Ubba has the Valkyrie front and back tattoos as well, Vili has his canon arm tattoos but is otherwise a blank slate at this point in his life.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Halfdan’s camp in Mercia is a weird sort of maze despite the fact that it is just a bunch of docks at one end and a longhouse at the other, plus a waterfall and some bridges thrown in for good measure.  The problem is that there are far too many tents jammed into the given space and they all look the same.  Sometimes Vili has trouble finding his own tent even with landmarks, but when your landmarks are ‘the big tent with two small tents on either side’ it can feel like a lost cause.  Thankfully Ubba’s tent was one of the few tents not white or similar in shape to the other tents and now that he had a longhouse to do his plotting and planning in, he only had to track down one tent to find him.</p>
<p>Vili had seen little of Ubba since their moment in the council tent.  Not long after Vili and his father and their men had begun making their way up the rivers towards Halfdan’s camp clearing out outposts and dens, making way for less armed ships to sail and to further open trade between the scattered regions aligning together under Dane and Norse might.</p>
<p>In the moving and traveling, Vili had come across the cloak that Ubba had covered him with on the night of his campfire misadventure, it having been buried amongst the things that came together to form his bed, a term he used more and more loosely as time wore on.</p>
<p>And now here he was, standing in front of Ubba’s tent, cloak folded over his arm, hoping it seems like a good enough excuse to bother the man even though Ubba had just arrived at the camp the day before.  He takes a deep breath, rights himself, prepares to walk in like he owns the place, takes a step forward and-</p>
<p>“Vili!”</p>
<p>Vili twitches, looks behind him to see who is calling, finds Marius, his father’s most trusted drengr, waving from atop the gentle slope of the camp.  Vili looks back to Ubba’s tent, wondering if he might walk out on hearing his name called, but he doesn’t.</p>
<p>Vili sighs and turns around, makes his way to Marius.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?”</p>
<p>“Your father is tracking a herd of elk close by, come join us, your bow arm would be welcome.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Vili says, the idea of a hunt sounding better than making excuses to see Ubba and likely getting pushed aside by the man’s workload. “I’ll grab my bow.”</p>
<p>Without thinking much about it, Vili shakes out Ubba’s cloak as he trots back to his tent, drapes it over his shoulders and clips it in place around his neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The last thing Vili remembers are his hands gripped tight around the antlers of the elk, staring down at the creature’s head, wondering what he was doing there with that magnificent beast, wondering if he was really that foolish...and realizing that <em> yes </em>, he was.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Everything </em> hurts.</p>
<p>It hurts to breathe, especially.  It feels like his heart has exploded in his chest, except he can still feel it hammering away inside him, the pain reverberating with every beat.  There are too many people around him, too many sounds, too many people talking over each other, too much pain.</p>
<p>Someone is telling him he needs to breathe and if he could he’d punch them because <em> of course </em> he needs to breathe, what kind of dumb suggestion was <em> that</em>? </p>
<p>And then Vili realizes he <em> isn’t </em> breathing so he tries again, a little slower, a little deeper.  </p>
<p>“Freya’s tits!  What happened?”</p>
<p>Vili shuts his eyes, thumps the table below him with a bootheel at the sound of Ivarr’s voice drawing nearer, a whimper escaping from between his lips.</p>
<p>“He was gored by an elk,” Marius says from somewhere nearby.</p>
<p>“He was attacked by an elk?” Ubba’s voice now.  His eyes shoot open, he tries to adjust his head to look for Ubba but it hurts to do anything.</p>
<p>“Attacked is not the word I would use.”</p>
<p>“What does that mean?” Vili can hear the amusement already surfacing in Ivarr’s voice, this was the chaos he loved.</p>
<p>“He challenged the elk?” Marius suggests, as if he can’t think of a better way to put it.</p>
<p>“<em>He </em>challenged <em> it</em>?” Vili wishes he could see the look on Ubba’s face, he wants something he can laugh about later, if he lives to see the day this all seems funny.</p>
<p>“<em>See! </em>  I told you,” Ivarr is shouting and Vili wants to punch him as his words ring through his head, “I <em> told </em> you he was crazy.  I knew he had it in him.”</p>
<p>“Ivarr, shut up before I rip your tongue out.” Ubba’s words are calm and measured despite the threat in them.  Ivarr says nothing in reply, a telling sign.</p>
<p>“How bad is it?” Ubba asks Marius, quietly.</p>
<p>“Well, his chest was pierced by an antler.  It had to have missed his heart or he’d be dead already. Maybe the antler nicked a lung, I don’t know, he’s not breathing right, not that I need to point that out.”  No, Vili thinks, you really don’t.  “It could be from swelling or bruising,  but this is far beyond what I know.”</p>
<p>“And?”</p>
<p>“And what?  If he doesn’t bleed to death something could fester inside the wound and kill him, even if it’s cauterized. Is that the <em> and </em> you were looking for?”</p>
<p>“He better hope Odin saw that elk as a worthy opponent.”</p>
<p>“<em>I</em><em>varr.”</em> <em>Now</em> Ubba sounds angry.  Vili tries to smile, but that hurts too, his face stings and he can feel it swelling.</p>
<p>“Where is his father?”</p>
<p>“Not sure, up the river some, they were pushing the herd this way.”</p>
<p>“Ivarr, I think you should go find Hemming.”</p>
<p>The fact that Ivarr doesn’t argue or make a joke puts a knot of worry in Vili’s stomach as he listens to Ivarr’s retreating footsteps.</p>
<p>“What are his other injuries?”</p>
<p>Vili wishes they wouldn’t talk about him like he wasn’t there.</p>
<p>“Scratches to his chest and face.  A few deeper gouges across his upper left arm, they will need stitching but if he lives they will heal.  I don’t <em> think </em> he has any broken bones, we felled the elk before it could trample him completely, but he was still kicked.  I’m going to need to get more supplies, he’s already bleeding through these bandages.  I’ll find Vigdis, too, she should be able to ease his pain.”</p>
<p>“Have someone find Tora and Halfdan, I need to speak to both of them.” Listening to Ubba and Marius almost feels like he’s not even the topic of discussion. “I’ll stay with him for now.”</p>
<p>“Make sure he stays on his side and stays awake.”</p>
<p>“I will, now go.”</p>
<p>There are many footsteps and <em> shoo</em>ing noises as Marius gets everyone out of range and then it's wonderfully quiet in the longhouse again, the only sound is his own heavy, labored breathing.  Vili opens his eyes when he feels a hand on his shoulder, mindful of his fresh wounds.  Ubba is there, sitting on the table’s bench.  Vili tries to smile, licks his split lip, wants to laugh at all of this but it only comes out as a wheeze.  He moves his fingers the best he can, nails tapping on the wood table, trying to reach for Ubba who moves to cover Vili’s hand, barely touching it.  </p>
<p>“What did you do?”</p>
<p>Vili’s lips twitch, water collecting in his eyes, stinging with sweat and frustrated tears at his fatigue.</p>
<p>“I...promised you...no...valkyries.” Every word from his mouth is a labor unto itself but Vili says them anyway, too far gone to remember that Ubba is not the one he made that promise to.  He lets his eyes flutter closed again, he’s so tired, he wants to sleep forever.</p>
<p>“Vili, you have to stay awake.”</p>
<p>Ubba’s hand is squeezing his as Vili slips into darkness.</p>
<p>
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  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Hey, arse-stick!”</p>
<p>“Where are you, you troll?” Vili spins around, surprised to hear Eivor’s voice but all he finds is a swirling miasma.  “Wolf-kissed?”</p>
<p>“I’m right behind you!” Vili turns again, but instead of Eivor, Ivarr is standing there, grinning.</p>
<p>“Hey, arse-stick.”</p>
<p>“Ivarr, not now, <em> please </em>.” Vili feels overheated and frantic, itchy and hyperalert.</p>
<p>“Who are you looking for?”</p>
<p>“I’m looking for Eivor.”</p>
<p>“I’m <em> over here </em>!”</p>
<p>Vili closes his eyes, takes a deep, stinging breath and turns around.  When he opens them again Eivor is standing there in the turning fog.</p>
<p>“Eivor,” Vili whispers, more calmly than he feels, taking big, striding steps to close the distance between them.  “Where have you been?</p>
<p>“I’ve been here all along, arse-stick,” Vili leans down and presses his forehead to Eivor’s, “I have something I need to tell you.”</p>
<p>“What is it?” Vili asks, content here, in the misty void.  Eivor’s voice is soft and smooth and whisper quiet.</p>
<p>“<em> This is going to hurt </em>.”</p>
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<p>“Vili?  Did you hear me?”</p>
<p>“Eivor?” Vili tries to open his eyes, but his lids feel heavy and tired.</p>
<p>“It’s Marius,” Vili feels weight on his ankles and knees and the hip on the side he’s not lying on, like he’s being held down, “we need to cauterize your wound, you’ve lost too much blood already.”</p>
<p>“Where’s Vigdis?” He asks before he hears her humming, somewhere far away. “Where’s my father?”</p>
<p>The pressure on one of his ankles increases for a moment, “I am here Vili, and Vigdis is preparing something for your pain.”</p>
<p>Vili nods, it’s easier than talking.  The hand on Vili’s hip is warm and firm, someone he can’t see is standing behind him.  He lets his free arm slip back behind him, against his back, fingers splaying, reaching, searching for what he thinks is there.  Marius encourages Vili’s mouth to open, slips something hard and leathery between his teeth.  Something to bite on so he doesn’t hurt himself.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?” Vili takes as deep a breath as he can and that alone is painful enough that he is biting down on the leather, already.  Eventually he nods, buries his face in his bicep, and right before that endless, searing pain hits, Vili feels warm, strong fingers slip between his.  Despite the pain, he almost smiles.<br/><br/><br/><br/></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What else can we do?"</p>
<p>"I don't think there <em> is </em> anything else. Vigdis has covered the cauterization with a salve for the pain, Tora stitched his arm while you were gone.  His problems are internal now.  He has to ride it out."</p>
<p>There is a pause in the conversation and Vili is trying to figure out who is talking, but everything sounds the same.  His ears seem filled with the sounds of his own labored breathing and everything is tainted by it.</p>
<p>"There's nothing else?"</p>
<p>"Vigdis has something he can drink that <em> might </em> reduce the swelling in his chest and take pressure off of his lungs, but I can't wake him up enough, I'm afraid he is going to choke on it."</p>
<p>“I’ll help you, where is it?”</p>
<p>“Over here.”</p>
<p>There are shuffling noises and then someone is shaking him.  </p>
<p>“Vili?”</p>
<p>Vili groans between labored breaths.</p>
<p>“We have something we need you to drink.”</p>
<p>“Mmmhmm.”</p>
<p>Vili is being forced to sit and he doesn’t like it.  He opens his eyes as much as he can, he is still in the longhouse and there is a wooden bowl being held up in front of his face.  He is leaning up against something warm.</p>
<p>“We need you to drink this.” </p>
<p>The voice is coming from somewhere near his ear, soft and steady.</p>
<p>“Father?”</p>
<p>There is a puff of air near his face and someone else is stifling laughter as they walk away.</p>
<p>“I’m going to forgive you for that, <em> this one time </em>.  Now please drink this.”</p>
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<p>The world is spinning and swirling around him, the foggy void of his dreams collapsing down upon him.</p>
<p>“Vili?”</p>
<p>He’s on his knees and Eivor is there before him and Vili is so tired.  His chest is tight and every breath is a new experience in agony and he has decided he just won’t do it anymore.</p>
<p>“Vili?”</p>
<p>He’s ignoring Eivor, leaning forward to rest his forehead on his shoulder but he won’t listen to his words.  He’s done with everything, with England, with fighting, with feeling guilty and conflicted.  He’s done with being pulled forward while something else pulls him back.</p>
<p>Eivor’s hand is on his neck, almost clamped down, and on the edge of his hearing there is the faintest sound of footfalls, metallic, like hooves; a horse walking on stone.  The fluttering of wings, the sound of shifting armor.</p>
<p>“You<em> promised</em>.”</p>
<p>Eivor’s words are like ice in his head, a cold, unbearable truth.  He <em> had </em> promised, and it was a stupid promise to make.  And <em> this</em>? This was the stupidest way he could have chosen to break it.</p>
<p>There is a feather light touch on Vili’s shoulder, beckoning, <em> calling</em>.  Then Eivor’s hand is on his jaw and they are staring eye to eye, and Eivor is begging, <em> pleading</em>.</p>
<p>“Please, Vili, you <em> have </em> to breathe.”</p>
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<p>The great lungful of air that Vili is breathing in is warm and harsh and tinged with the smoke of a burning fire but it is such a relief, despite the pain that breathing deeply causes him.  He flutters his eyes open as he tries to sit up, and immediately there are hands trying to stop him.  Marius, his father and Trygve are all standing along one side of the table, a mix of relief and worry on each of their faces.  </p>
<p>“Please,” Vili practically begs, the word raspy and weak, “my hip.”</p>
<p>The hands that had been holding him down are helping him into a sitting position and he lets one leg hang off the side of the table.  He had no idea how long he’d been lying like that, but the pain in his hip is almost as fierce as the pain in his chest and lungs.  His father moves closer and Vili leans over, resting his forehead on Hemming’s shoulder, his breaths coming in shallow fits, like he’s on the verge of catching his breath, but he <em> can’t</em>.</p>
<p>Out of nowhere Vigdis appears beside them, a bowl in her hand.</p>
<p>“Drink this,” she tells him and Vili sits up to take the bowl in unsteady hands, “it will return your strength and ease your pain.”</p>
<p>“What is it?” He asks, sniffing the thick mixture inside the bowl.  It smells metallic and earthy.</p>
<p>“It is a brew made from the heart of the elk you fought, drink it and take back your strength.”</p>
<p>Vili sips it tentatively.  It's not the worst thing he’s even put in his mouth, but not the best either.  He’d eaten plenty of animal organs before, but Vigdis’ brews always added that extra special <em> something </em> to the taste.  He can never put a finger on it, and he never wants to.  </p>
<p>As he sips, he notices Ivarr at the other side of the longhouse, standing on that fine line between <em> being there </em> and <em> not getting involved </em>.  It’s strange to see Ivarr around, but not Ubba and Vili starts to look around, under the pretext of stretching his sore muscles, until he finds Ubba standing off behind his table turned bed speaking to a woman Vili finds familiar but not identifiable.  Like he’s seen her around the camp, but that’s all.  She smiles at him when she sees him looking, and he smiles back before returning his attention to Vigdis’ brew.</p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
<p>The first few nights after Vili is allowed back to his tent are like one long, painful waking dream.  He spends most of his time trying to sleep, and most of that time failing to do so; the combination of fever and pain keeping his mind reeling and alert and unable to settle. </p>
<p>He spends much of his time exhausted and disinterested, with no desire to eat or drink although he does sometimes, so that his father won’t worry as much when he checks in on him.  When he can focus, Vili spends his wakeful hours listening to Vigdis as she hums and stirs and grinds away, mixing new potions and soothing salves; the former hit or miss, but the latter usually effective.  He seems to have become her test subject and he’s not certain how he feels about it.</p>
<p>Sometimes when he is dreaming he thinks he is awake and sometimes when he is awake he thinks he is dreaming.  Eivor comes to him and sits beside him in the tent and Ubba walks with him through a hazy, endless void. </p>
<p>And all the while he is watched, in the tent, in the void, in his mind, by a silver-white elk, huge and imposing and <em> beautiful </em>.  It is always there, in the corner of his vision, and if he tries to look at it straight on, it vanishes completely.  But it is always there, always watching.</p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
<p>Vili lies in his bed staring up at the canvas of his tent as it ripples in the breeze, listening to the sounds of drunken revelry coming from the longhouse.  Vigdis has seen fit to finally allow him peace and solitude while he sleeps, but he is finding it difficult now, with no one there.  He had been annoyed at how he’d been forced to be under constant supervision, but now that it was gone, it felt strange.  It wasn’t that he’d wanted to be alone, he just hadn’t wanted to be treated like something so fragile it had to be protected.  They kept him hidden away, sequestered in his tent except when he was allowed to leave to walk circles around it under the supervision of Trygve, Marius or his father, usually because he needed to piss.</p>
<p>He focuses on the sounds from the longhouse, tries to imagine being there instead of stuck in a bed with a hole in his chest and an aching pain near his heart, constantly aware of how difficult it is for him to breath, an automatic function of his body he’d never paid much attention to.  The fever still comes and goes, mostly at night, but he avoids the “drink” Vigdis made for it because the wretched taste lingers through his sleep; he can even taste it in his dreams.</p>
<p>“Vili?”</p>
<p>Deep in his thoughts Vili is surprised when he hears his name spoken quietly in a voice that has always commanded his attention.  His heart starts to beat faster in his chest.</p>
<p>“Come in,” he says, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth has become.  When Ubba’s silhouette fills the entrance of his tent Vili can't help but allow a small noise to escape, not just because it's Ubba but because he is so happy he doesn’t have to be alone with his pain.  He sits up quickly, happy to have Ubba close again, even more happy that it looks like he’s brought two mugs with him, but he regrets his enthusiasm immediately. The pain in his chest pulses within him. He tries to stifle his groan but doesn't entirely succeed.</p>
<p>“Maybe I should not have come?” Ubba offers up, though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced of his own concern.</p>
<p>“No, please don’t,” Vili says, pitifully, “I thought I wanted to be alone, but I was wrong.”</p>
<p>He reaches out and takes the mug that is offered to him, Ubba looming above him with the slightest touch of a sway to his otherwise commanding stance.  Vili sips from the mug, delighted by the taste of golden honey mead swishing around in his mouth.</p>
<p>“Your problem is you spend too much time in your head.”</p>
<p>“Whose head should I spend it in?” Vili asks through a grin, unsure if Ubba can see it in the darkness of the tent, but hoping he can hear it in his words.</p>
<p>“That tongue of yours, I swear,” Ubba laughs as he settles down near Vili on the configuration of furs and other soft things that Vili calls his bed, but is really just a flattened pile.  “You know that is not what I meant.”</p>
<p>“You spend an equal amount of time in your head,” Vili shoots back, the mead loosening his tongue already.  There is something very familiar about the taste that he can’t put his finger on.</p>
<p>Ubba shrugs. “Yes, but I spend that time calculating, not regretting.”</p>
<p>Vili snorts into his mug. “I guess the <em> great </em> Ubba Ragnarsson does not have time for regrets.”</p>
<p>“Do not say such foolish things,” Ubba replies, his tone strange and unfamiliar. “I could fill an ocean with regrets, but what would it do except drag me down into its depths.”</p>
<p>“Odin was right, mead really does make poets of us all.”</p>
<p>Ubba nods, barely noticeable in the darkness. “It would seem that way.”</p>
<p>A moment of silence passes between them in which Vili starts to regret what has said and then laughs silently.  Ubba was not wrong in his assessment.  He was always thinking and wondering if the timing was right or wrong, wondering if things were worth the risk, not realizing, until recently, that sometimes the risk was its own reward.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you are...”</p>
<p>“Heartless?” Ubba finishes for him, a grin forming on his face.</p>
<p>“I was going to say callous, but that will do.”</p>
<p>Ubba is staring straight ahead, but his hand slides over to rest on Vili’s leg, just above his knee.</p>
<p>“We will be many things in our lifetime, Vili.  We can only hope that the sum will equal a total we can live with.”</p>
<p>Vili stares at Ubba in the darkness, then tries to laugh the tension away.</p>
<p>“Alright old man, you’ve had enough of the poet tonight.” Vili says through his laugh, reaching out for Ubba’s mug, regretting it when his pain reminds him of its existence.  Between the mead and Ubba’s company, Vili had set it aside for a moment; both the physical and the mental.</p>
<p>“Careful Vili,” Ubba says, exasperated, as he moves to get both of their mugs out of the way before he rests his hands below Vili’s ribs, hands that are cool against Vili’s skin, the fever not as far gone as he thought it might have been.  He moves his hands to Ubba’s biceps to steady himself.</p>
<p>“I forgot myself, I guess,” Vili says with a wheeze.</p>
<p>“I have no earthly idea how you could manage <em> that,” </em>Ubba replies and Vili can feel the weight of his stare.</p>
<p>“What has gotten into you tonight?” Vili asks through painful laughter, his hands sliding up to Ubba’s shoulders.</p>
<p>“I am not sure, you father’s mead is all…”</p>
<p>“My father’s mead?” Vili asks, surprised, but then he remembers the familiar taste.</p>
<p>“Yes, he gave his recipe to Halfdan’s brewers.” </p>
<p>“Oh well, your war is lost, then,” Vili says, “you’ll all be scholars and poets before the night is through, not a warrior among you.”</p>
<p>Ubba is laughing, a deep rumble in his chest and Vili can feel it vibrate through the man’s body and at every point where the two of them touch.  He moves his hands to Ubba’s neck, slides his thumbs along his jawline, through his dark beard.  Ubba lets out a low sigh and Vili smiles, pleased, in the darkness, and Vili is pulling himself to press his lips hard against Ubba’s, his breath ragged, both of them moaning, lips parting, so much heat between them and Vili wants to melt away, to be as close as possible.  For a moment in time Vili’s pain is forgotten again, seems somewhere else, over in the far corner of the tent perhaps, like flung off clothing, still existing but unimportant as he moves to straddle Ubba’s lap, both of them pulling the other closer and closer, like nothing in the world could come between them.  But it is too close, Ubba’s chest pressing hard against his, pushing against the bandaged wound so close to his heart and it takes Vili’s breath like a vice grip around his lungs, each one short and sharp and painful, his fingers digging into the muscles of Ubba’s back.  </p>
<p>He tries to take slow, deep breaths, tries to focus on Ubba’s hand on his back rubbing soft patterns against his skin and the gentle rumble of Ubba’s body against his as he starts to hum?  No, as he starts to <em> sing </em>; gently, almost too quiet to hear.</p>
<p>Vili closes his eyes, tries to will his breathing into control, presses his cheek against the shaved side of Ubba’s head....</p>
<p><em> “... </em> <em> it's a cold dark day, come sit by the hearth…”  </em></p>
<p>...and instead of the pain, he focuses on the words, the sounds, the <em> feel</em>...</p>
<p>
  <em> “...come hear of the tales, from before your birth...” </em>
</p>
<p>...and every breath he takes is less shallow than the last.</p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
<p>“Hello? Tora?”</p>
<p>Vili is standing at the entrance to one of the largest tents in the camp, certain for once that he has found the right tent on the first try.</p>
<p>“Come in,” replies a woman’s voice, presumably Tora’s.</p>
<p>Upon entering Vili finds a tent full of organized chaos, stacks and piles of rolled materials and maps piled in the corners of the tent as well as on a large table in the middle of the space.</p>
<p>“Oh, Vili, I am happy to see you on your feet.”</p>
<p>Vili is startled by her enthusiasm and feels bad because he has only the slightest recollection of the woman.  She was the one he had seen talking to Ubba after his injury.</p>
<p>“You did my stitches?” He asks, his hand reflexively going to the opposite bicep where he’d been cut by the elk’s antlers.</p>
<p>“I did,” she replies, smiling and nodding, already moving to clear the table of its maps.  “You don’t remember, do you?”</p>
<p>“Not really, no. Sorry.” Vili says with a shrug before he starts assisting her.  Blissfully, she does not stop him like so many others would these days.  As he helps her move the maps around he starts to recognize the lettering and the color schemes, just like the maps he’d poured over in Ubba’s tent.  “These maps, are they your work?”</p>
<p>“Yes, they are, I’m sure you’ve seen them if you spend any time with Ubba.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’ve been using them since I came here.  So you do stitches, and maps?”</p>
<p>“And tattoos.”</p>
<p>“<em> And </em>tattoos?”</p>
<p>“It is all very delicate work.”</p>
<p>“That’s true.”</p>
<p>Tora gestures for Vili to sit on the table.  He eyes it suspiciously, it doesn’t look very sturdy.</p>
<p>“If you are worried about the table's pedigree, it held Ubba while I tattooed his arse.”</p>
<p>Vili chokes on his own breath, “What? Seriously?”</p>
<p>Tora laughs, “No.  Well, yes, but not his arse, just his back.  But the look on your face is priceless.”</p>
<p>Vili tries to laugh everything away as he lifts himself on to the table.</p>
<p>“Off with your tunic, don’t be shy, I’ve already seen what you are hiding under there.”</p>
<p>“All of which has diminished while I waste away, barely allowed to walk across camp without supervision,” Vili laments as he removes his tunic.</p>
<p>“I should think you can resume some sparring soon enough.  How does your chest feel?  It looks like it is healing well on the outside, I’m sorry there wasn’t much I could do about that one.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, I guess.  It still feels like fire on the inside, sometimes.”</p>
<p>Tora is looking over his arm, pulling the skin this way and that.  “I don’t know much about medicine, but I would think it may take longer to heal.  I only learned to stitch because Ubba is not very cooperative when it comes to his wounds."</p>
<p>"Why am I not surprised?" Vili says through a snort.</p>
<p>"I convinced him I would have a better chance at saving his tattoos, but I just wanted to make sure he didn’t die from something that could have been prevented.”  Tora turns around for a moment, comes back with a delicate pair of shears. "I'm going to remove the stitches, just keep it covered in that balm that Vigdis made until it finishes healing.  There's no avoiding the scars but I tried to align everything right.  It's a shame, they are beautiful tattoos, did you get them in Norway?"</p>
<p>Vili watches curiously as Tora begins to cut and pull out the stitches from his arm. </p>
<p>"I did, under Odin's watchful eye, though now I feel I have strayed from the scope of his vision."</p>
<p>Tora nods her head, a look of empathy on her face.  "I felt that way too after I left home, but I've been gone many years, now, and I've learned that Odin is always with me, even if sometimes I cannot see the signs."</p>
<p>"That is a comforting thought," Vili says, closing his eyes against the memories of getting his tattoos, the mix of pain and excitement.  And of course, Eivor watching him as he squirmed, and how he'd so badly wanted to take him somewhere so they could revel in the new experience of pain and pleasure.  But like so many things, that had never happened.  "Wait, if you've been Ubba's personal, <em> everything </em>, for however long, why are we only meeting now?"</p>
<p>"I've been in Jorvik, I only just came back to Mercia myself."</p>
<p>Vili laughs, "Are you a spy, too, then?"</p>
<p>"Me? No," she waves away the suggestion with a hand, "but I have several."</p>
<p>Vili shakes his head, "Ubba sure knows how to pick them."</p>
<p>"He sure does," she agrees, a soft, sweet smile on her face. "Alright, stitches are out.  You should be able to use full range of movement.  And.."</p>
<p>Tora is staring at him in a strange way, appraising him, almost.</p>
<p>"And?"</p>
<p>"Sorry," she says shaking her head.  "Occupational hazard I guess.  When I see so much blank skin I just start picturing tattoos."</p>
<p>Vili snorts.  "Must be rough.  I'll come back when I'm better healed, and we can maybe figure something out."</p>
<p>"I would be most pleased," she says with a smile.  "It's been awhile since I've done anything but make maps."</p>
<p> </p>
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<p>“If I had known your plan was to go hunting, I would not have joined you," Vili whines.</p>
<p>“You barged into <em> my </em> tent, unannounced, begging to be taken, and I quote, ‘<em>anywhere away from this wretched camp'</em>.  I do not think you should be complaining about the destination.”  Ubba sounds like he regrets ever having woken up that morning.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t begging," Vili insists.</p>
<p>“You were practically on your knees.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think we’d be here right now if I had been," Vili says, grinning.</p>
<p>Ubba looks at him like he’s contemplating <em> that </em>scenario as Ivarr's mount lazily walks up beside them.</p>
<p>“If you see any elk, just point them out and we will take them out from a safe distance," Ivarr's grin stretches from ear to ear.</p>
<p>Vili rolls his eyes. “Is that why they call you boneless, no spine?”</p>
<p>“I would not need a safe distance to take you out," Ivarr says, his hand moving to an axe at his side.</p>
<p>“I’m sitting <em> right </em> here.”</p>
<p>Ubba scoffs from somewhere behind Vili and by the time he turns around, his horse is already trotting away.  </p>
<p>“Can you even shoot that thing, yet?” Ivarr asks.</p>
<p>Vili looks over his shoulder at the bow on his back.  “I...I’m not sure.”</p>
<p>Ivarr just stares at him.</p>
<p>“Look, I just wanted to leave the camp, alright?  You don’t have to look after me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I won’t.” Ivarr says.</p>
<p>Ivarr gives his mount a few taps with his heels and directs it to follow after Ubba.  </p>
<p>Vili sits there, for a while, happy to be away from the camp, finally able to see some of the land beyond the hill it was nestled into.  Eventually he directs his horse down the hill in a slow lazy path in the opposite direction that Ubba had gone.  He hadn’t been <em> that </em> annoyed that Ubba had wanted to go hunting, just that Ivarr had wanted to tag along, too, so he decided to let Ubba take the suffering this time while he enjoyed his newly regained freedom for awhile.  </p>
<p> </p>
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<p>“Why are you here?” Vili asks his father as they sit on a large boulder watching Ivarr spar with anyone who wants to take him on.</p>
<p>“Can a man not sit with his son?” Hemming replies.</p>
<p>Vili stares at his father, suddenly and acutely aware of what Ubba is always giving him a hard time about.  It was strange to realize that something he thought he had cultivated in himself was really just picked up from his own father. “I...no...I mean, why are you <em> here. </em> In England.”</p>
<p>“That is a much more complicated answer.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I had been <em> anticipating </em> that,” Vili says with a roll of his eyes. “Ubba said that you knew his father.”</p>
<p>“I did, yes.”</p>
<p>“Is that why you are here?”</p>
<p>“It is a reason, yes.”</p>
<p>“But not <em> the </em> reason?” </p>
<p>“There is no <em> one </em> reason, Vili.  Just many things that eventually formed a decision.”</p>
<p>Silence passes between them for a while.  They sit and watch as Ivarr catches his latest opponent in a choke hold, sinking down to the ground until the other man goes completely limp.  Ivarr is calling next before the man is even pulled from the ring.</p>
<p>“What about you Vili, why are <em> you </em> here?”</p>
<p>“Because you won’t let me leave the camp without supervision?” Vili smiles, smugly, and then sighs.  “You ask me that as if I had a choice."</p>
<p>"You have always had a choice, Vili.  Always."</p>
<p>Vili looks away, stares down at the ground.  It was true, his father had always given him choices, maybe even too many chances to choose his own way.  It was how he ended up gallivanting around Norway with Eivor and Sigurd instead of getting married off to the first good alliance that presented itself.  Sometimes it was just easier to tell himself he had been forced to leave Eivor behind instead of accepting that he had chosen to.</p>
<p>“I should not have said that,” Vili says apologetically.</p>
<p>“No, you should not have, but you did, now move passed it.” That was his father, to the letter, unwilling to dwell too long on anything. “I know you feel guilty about leaving Eivor in Norway, I have seen it on your face since the day we left Stavanger, but let me ask you something.  You asked him to come, did you not?”</p>
<p>“I did.”</p>
<p>“To which he obviously said no.”</p>
<p>“He did.”</p>
<p>“Then he made his choice as well, and you are no more responsible for the outcome than he is.”</p>
<p>Vili sighs, “That sounds nice, but it’s not that easy.”</p>
<p>“It will become that easy, over time.”</p>
<p>“Why does everyone keep saying that?”</p>
<p>Hemmings shrugs “Probably because it is true.  Time heals all wounds, physical or otherwise.”</p>
<p>Silence passes between them again as they watch Ivarr dispatch his next opponent. </p>
<p>‘Do you think <em> they </em> will come to England?” Vili asks after a while.</p>
<p>“Eivor and Sigurd?” Vili nods. “I think so, eventually.  I love Styrbjorn like a brother, but he cannot contain those two, and neither can Norway.  And there are things in the air that I believe will snap the final straw.”  </p>
<p>“Is that why we are here now?”</p>
<p>“It is.”</p>
<p>“And what do we get out of this, in the end?”</p>
<p>“The brothers know why we are here.  We avenge their father, help spread their influence, and in turn they help us find lands suitable for our people.  And then we go about our lives until we meet again in the Golden Halls.  This has been the way for generations, though I fear there are those who’d like to change that.”</p>
<p>“Here in England?”</p>
<p>“Perhaps, but mostly back home.  You are still young, I don’t expect you to realize how much has changed in Norway.  I suspect now, though, that if you went back you’d notice what I mean.”</p>
<p>Vili snorts, never sure if his father’s mention of his age is disparaging or not.  He looks across the training area and to his amusement, catches Ubba staring his way.  He smiles in that way he’s learned to smile, where his eyes light up more than his lips, so it's not obvious to anyone but the one it’s directed at.  Hemming coughs beside him and Vili corrects himself: the smile is not obvious to anyone but the person it’s directed at <em> and </em> his unusually perceptive father.</p>
<p>Ivarr is calling for another opponent and all of the takers seem to have been defeated for the day.  Vili looks over at Ubba and then back to his father.</p>
<p>“My turn, I think,” Vili says.</p>
<p>“Vili…”</p>
<p>“Come on, you can’t shelter me forever, father.”</p>
<p>“I can try.”</p>
<p>Vili slips off his tunic and tosses it back towards the rock he’d been sitting on.</p>
<p>“It won’t work,” Vili says, grinning, not at all missing the dubious look he gets from Ubba as well.  It seems like the only person he was getting support from was Ivarr, but that wasn’t that strange.  Ivarr always supported things others saw as recklessness.</p>
<p>“What do you say we change things up a bit?” Vili asks as he steps into the sparring ring.</p>
<p>“What, like wagering?” Ivarr asks.</p>
<p>“No, I mean weapons.”</p>
<p>Ivarr smiles. “What did you have in mind?”</p>
<p>Vili walks over to a weapons rack, grabs two hand axes and walks back to Ivarr, handing him one.</p>
<p>“First to the ground loses?” Vili suggests.</p>
<p>“Sure.” Ivarr replies.  </p>
<p>“Shields?” Vili asks, pointing to one behind Ivarr and when he turns around, Vili grabs his shoulder and sweeps Ivarr’s feet out from under him, sending him to the ground.</p>
<p>Vili looks up, sees Ubba standing closer than he had been before, but he’s grinning and Vili can’t help but grin back.  Vili looks back to Ivarr, still lying on the ground and amazingly he still has a shit eating grin on his face. Vili tosses aside the axe.</p>
<p>“See, you guys just need to use your brain, not your...”</p>
<p>Vili is lying flat on his back before he knows what has happened, the wind thoroughly knocked from his chest, Ivarr laughing beside him. </p>
<p>Vili takes a couple quick breaths to reacquaint his lungs with the air.  And while the experience hadn’t been pain free, he was surprised the fall hadn’t hurt more on the inside.  Maybe he was finally mending.</p>
<p>“What do you say we call this a draw?” Ivarr proposes and Vili smirks.  He looks to see where Ubba is and he finds him engaged with his father.</p>
<p>“You can have the victory if you do me a favor.”</p>
<p>Ivarr sits up too. “Oh yeah?  What kind of favor?”</p>
<p>“I need a bottle of oowi...owi...oowishk…”</p>
<p>“<em> Uisge beatha </em>?” Ivarr asks.</p>
<p>“Yes, that.”</p>
<p>“How do you even…”</p>
<p>“Seriously, do you need to ask?”</p>
<p>“Why do you always spoil my fun?”</p>
<p>“Because your idea of fun does not fall in line with most other people’s idea of fun.”</p>
<p>“Fine, but why don’t you just get it from Ubba.”</p>
<p>“Well, I…”</p>
<p>“Oh, wait.  It’s a surprise, isn't it?” Ivarr is grinning like he does when he knows he has you backed into a corner, even just a metaphorical one.</p>
<p>“Maybe…” Vili mumbles.</p>
<p>“That is <em> so </em> cute I might vomit.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t,” Vili replies, but he’s laughing.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Vili stands before Ubba’s tent much like he had a couple months ago, before he had been called away by Marius to hunt the elk.  This time he has a bottle in hand instead of Ubba’s cloak, the thing lost now in the forest somewhere, he can only assume.</p>
<p>Vili takes a deep breath, walks forward and slips through the tent flaps unannounced, expecting Ubba to be doing what he always does: studying maps and calculating plans, but what he finds throws him off course completely.</p>
<p>Ubba is standing there, only wearing a pair of tight leather pants, no tunic, no armor or bracers, no boots.  Just his pants.  And if Vili isn't mistaken, he's curling his toes in fur below his feet.  But the thing that is truly mesmerizing are Ubba's tattoos, and he is astonished that Tora hadn't <em> bragged </em> about them; they were incredible works of art.  Ubba’s chest and stomach are a swirling canvas of runes and circles and pictures, and Vili just wants to sit down and read it all, sure that there must be a story there.</p>
<p>
  <em> Glory never dies, for the man able to achieve it... </em>
</p>
<p>The words are already pouring into Vili's mind without much effort.  </p>
<p>"Vili," Ubba addresses him without looking away from the letter he is reading and Vili takes that as a sign that he should keep exploring the tattoos.  He wishes he knew where the beginning was, so he could find the narrative instead of just random sentences.  </p>
<p>
  <em> If I have to lead old friends into battle, under the shields I chant... </em>
</p>
<p>He follows the words to Ubba's back, impressed by the scope and complexity of this work of art that it seemed so few had seen.  It was, perhaps, exactly what he should have expected from the man.</p>
<p>
  <em> ...safe into battle, safe out of battle, and safe return from strife… </em>
</p>
<p>Vili reaches out his hand, long fingers moving to touch the depiction of Yggdrasil as he reads the runes around it, his head tilting in amusement.</p>
<p>“Receive me?” He says out loud.</p>
<p>Ubba sighs, as if he was expecting the reaction. “A prayer to the world tree, to return what’s left of me to its roots.  It was Tora’s idea.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh.” Vili smirks as Ubba turns around, his eyes now staring at the man’s navel and the fine trail of dark hair above and below it.  He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly very dry.</p>
<p>“What did you bring?”</p>
<p>Vili blinks, unsure what Ubba means for a moment, then looks at his hand, the bottle of <em> uisge beatha </em> so thoroughly forgotten he’s surprised he hadn’t dropped it.  He stands, offers the bottle to Ubba who inspects it and smiles.</p>
<p>“Your favorite, perhaps this time you won’t fall asleep.”</p>
<p>“I am completely untainted by other drink at the moment, that should buy me some time.”</p>
<p>Ubba laughs that low, quiet rumble of his that comes out when something amuses him deeply.  </p>
<p>“Where did you get it?”</p>
<p>“From Ivarr,” Vili replies with a sigh.</p>
<p>“What did it cost you?”</p>
<p>“A victory.”</p>
<p>“A high price to pay when dealing with Ivarr.”</p>
<p>“High, but not too high.”</p>
<p>“You know I have plenty? You could have just asked.”</p>
<p>“It was meant to be a...”</p>
<p>“Surprise?”</p>
<p>“As part of an offering, I suppose?”</p>
<p>“And…?”</p>
<p><em> And what?  </em> Vili thinks.  Ubba had thrown him off course, like he always did.  </p>
<p>“And what else are you offering…”</p>
<p>“Me…”</p>
<p>“Go on…”</p>
<p>“I want you to fuck me…”</p>
<p>The words are out of Vili’s mouth before he even realizes he is saying them and in his head he prays to Yggdrasil, for the world tree would likely be receiving <em> him </em> shortly.  He is all too certain he could die right <em> there</em>.</p>
<p>Ubba is staring at him, much like Ivarr had done when they’d arrived, except Ivarr had been sizing him up then and Ubba’s gaze is all but tearing him down.  To be looked at with pure <em> intent </em> was filing Vili’s chest with a warm tingling sensation.  Like when they drink the <em> uisge beatha</em>, except he hasn’t had any yet.   There is no question of <em> what happens if </em> on Ubba’s face, no concern about tomorrow or five years from now, no internal crisis about right time or wrong time, do I or don’t I?  All he can read of Ubba’s expression is <em> yes, I want that </em> and <em> yes, I will have that </em>, and Vili just has to pass the agonizing moments until Ubba takes it.</p>
<p>Ubba turns around to the table where he’d set the bottle to fill two nearby cups and Vili doesn’t miss the deep, calming breath Ubba takes.  Vili sees it as a small victory that he managed to unhinge him even the slightest bit.  When he turns around his gaze is soft but somehow still intense and when he hands the cup to him, Vili is aware of just how hard Ubba is trying <em> not </em> to touch him.  </p>
<p>“Drink this and then undress.”</p>
<p>Vili does as he is told, unconcerned with anything other than the idea of having Ubba's hands on him, the exact thing that he is currently being denied.  Ubba takes the cup when he has emptied it and walks back to the table to refill it as Vili begins to undress, the tendrils of the <em> uisge beatha </em> already spreading through him like it lives in his veins.  A little uneasy, he looks back at the closed entryway of the tent and Ubba laughs quietly.</p>
<p>“Do not worry, you are the only one who ever sees fit to walk into my <em> private </em> tent unannounced.”</p>
<p>Vili turns his head and tries to hide his grin in his shoulder, then continues removing his tunic and belts when the warmth has left his face.  Each piece he drops gently to the floor, not out of reverence but to try and match Ubba’s slow pace, hoping the agony is shared.  Ubba is walking a slow, small circle around him and when he is behind him Vili bends over slowly to untie his boots, certain that he is being watched. Vili bites his lower lip and returns to his full height, kicking off his boots. When Ubba returns in front of him he knows immediately what he is staring at; that red gnarled spot on his chest that was once a hole but now is a scraggly patch of scarred skin; red and angry, healed on the outside, still the source of occasional pain on the inside, reverberating now with each increasingly frantic beat of his heart.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a moment of quiet contemplation Ubba breaks his gaze and returns his attention to the table, pouring two more capfuls of the <em> uisge beatha</em>, drinking one immediately. Vili's hands are on the ties on the side of his tight pants, growing tighter by the moment as his cock hardens under Ubba’s scrutiny.  Ubba leans back against the table, sets the empty cup on it and holds the other out to Vili like a reward.</p>
<p>“That’s enough,” Ubba says and Vili takes the cup, drinks the contents down quickly, relishes the feel of the drink and his lust mixing in his throat, constricting, quickening his breath and the beats of his heart.</p>
<p>Ignoring Ubba’s suggestion to stop, Vili unties the straps on one side of his pants and lets the leather fall forward on it’s own, revealing nothing underneath but his skin. He feels a sharp ache in his groin when Ubba's lip twitches <em> just so </em> , and he groans, deep and low.  When Ubba makes no other move Vili pulls the ties on the other side of his pants and lets the other flap fall as well, the leather collecting around his thighs, their tightness too great to fall to the floor unaided.  He stands there hands fidgeting under Ubba’s scrutiny, his toes curling in the fur underneath his feet, the <em> uisge beatha </em>reaching its tendrils of fire through him like Yggdrasil’s roots, waiting so desperately to receive him.</p>
<p>Vili closes his eyes, places one hand around his exposed erection, wonders how long Ubba could possibly hold out just to torture him and then Ubba’s hands are on his bare shoulders and he is oh so very close.</p>
<p>"They will hear us all over the camp."</p>
<p>"I will be quiet," Vili replies, voice low, pleading, it almost doesn’t sound like his own.</p>
<p>"No, you will not," Ubba’s voice is filled with amusement. </p>
<p>"Are you challenging me to be quiet?" Vili asks.</p>
<p>“No,” that one single word reverberates through him, from his ear to his cock, “I am promising you that you <em> won't </em> be.”</p>
<p>Vili can’t stop the whimper that escapes from his lips, the battle already lost, but he doesn’t care when Ubba’s lips are on his and he can taste <em> him </em> and their shared drink in his mouth.  His senses are full of Ubba’s smell and the sounds he is making; the sharp intakes of air, the warm exhalations against his lips that find its way into his mouth.</p>
<p>Vili wants to touch every part of Ubba, his hands moving from place to place, unable to stay anywhere for long.  His fingers run the length of Ubba’s jawline, through his beard, on his shoulders and chest, trailing through the hair that leads down to the waistline of Ubba’s pants.  He whimpers almost pathetically when Ubba’s lips leave his, then whines again as he trails kisses and bites down his throat to his collarbone; from his chest, carefully past the scar, to his abdomen, where he leaves a wet trail near his navel with his tongue.  His hands rest exactly where Vili’s pants would hang from his hips, if they didn’t currently hang from his thighs, and he’s not certain how Ubba can pretend his erection isn’t throbbing against him.</p>
<p>Vili moves his hands to Ubba's head, one freeing his hair from the metal ornament holding his ponytail, the other pressing hard against Ubba's scalp.  He runs his fingers through Ubba's hair, gripping a swath of it tightly when Ubba finally moves his mouth from Vili's abdomen to his aching cock.  The sound that escapes his mouth is obscene as he tries not to fuck himself down the wet heat of Ubba's throat; hands squeezing Vili’s thighs until he steadies himself.  </p>
<p>He’s not sure if it’s the strain of the day -- the faux fight with Ivarr, then the build up to this -- or just the fact that he hadn’t been allowed to do much more than sit in a bed or walk the last two months, but Vili suddenly feels exhausted and wants nothing more than to lie on the beautiful, expansive furs lining the floor of the tent.  He puts his hands on Ubba’s shoulders and with every ounce of his self control, pulls his cock from Ubba’s mouth.</p>
<p>“I need to lie down before I fall down,” Vili tells him, his breathing a little more erratic and out of control than he had first realized.  Ubba nods and wraps one arm around his waist and presses light kisses against his stomach until he’s helped Vili wriggle out of his pants, and then Vili just sort of slips down the ground until he is wriggling against the soft furs, a smile plastered across his face.  Ubba is laughing above him and Vili rolls over and stares back at him.  He lifts a leg and rubs his bare foot against Ubba’s leather clad thigh.</p>
<p>“Are you going to take these off?” Vili asks and for a moment Ubba actually looks hesitant but then he’s standing and untying his pants and slipping them down and Vili is wholly unprepared for what he sees.</p>
<p>“Freya has blessed me,” Vili mutters when Ubba returns to his full height, revealing that his tattoo went further than Vili had imagined.  From just below his waistline to the middle of his left upper thigh there was another circle of intricate runes and at its center, a deep dark orb. Vili gets up off the furs, to his knees, so he can better read the runes, completely unaware that he is even reading them out loud.  </p>
<p>“I know a spell that I never tell to maiden or wife of man.  A secret I hide from all except for the one who lies in my arms.”</p>
<p>Vili leans forward and places his lips against the ink blacked orb on Ubba’s skin, his right hand massaging the back of Ubba’s thigh, his other hand moving to take the man’s cock in its grip.  Ubba seems to shudder from head to toe before placing a hand on Vili’s head, directing him to his waiting erection.  Vili smiles before licking the length of Ubba’s cock with the full width of his tongue and then sucks the head into his mouth, relishing in the startled gasp the breaks free from Ubba’s mouth.  Vili takes his cock as far as he can, wanting to hear more of those sounds from Ubba, but also desperately wanting to be fucked, still having one more little surprise to reveal.</p>
<p>Vili lets Ubba’s cock slip from his mouth and Ubba gives a disappointed groan. Vili straightens as much as he can on his knees and presses his mouth against Ubba’s stomach, the tattoos there filling his vision.  </p>
<p>“Ubba, please.  I will spend the next week sucking your cock and finding every spot on your body that will make you <em> beg </em> for more,” he looks up to Ubba, his face still mostly hidden against his abdomen, “but please, for the love of Freya, would you fuck me right now.”</p>
<p>Ubba exhales deeply, one hand running through Vili’s hair before he steps away.  Vili closes his eyes, kneeling there, the air cool against his chest, his breaths coming in shallow pants, his <em> need </em> so tight and warm in his chest.</p>
<p>When Ubba returns he drops down to his knees as well, takes Vili’s chin in his hand.  </p>
<p>“How badly do you want me?” Ubba asks and Vili opens his eyes and stares into Ubba’s gaze, a smile growing across his face.</p>
<p>“So badly I came prepared.” Ubba looks at him for a moment, head tilted, and Vili grabs Ubba’s other hand, directs it around his waist, pushes it against the small of his back and down, until Ubba’s fingers slip between his cheeks and find him already lubed and ready for him. “So badly I almost came while I was preparing myself <em> for </em> you.”</p>
<p>The sound that leaves Ubba’s mouth is almost a whimper and Vili smiles as Ubba slips fingers inside him, their lips crashing together frantically, a small vial being pressed into Vili’s hand.  Vili opens it and pours some of the lube into his hand, then takes Ubba’s erection into his grip, stroking it in time with the fingers thrusting inside him.  Ubba’s breaths are sporadic and shallow, by far the least in control Vili has seen him, but now he wants to see him more undone.</p>
<p>“Please,” Vili pants against Ubba’s lips and the other man is nodding, whispering <em> turn around </em> into Vili’s mouth and when he does Ubba is pulling him back into his lap so that he’s straddling Ubba, except in reverse, both of them still on their knees.</p>
<p>Vili’s breath catches in his throat when Ubba slowly slips inside him, holding him still with both hands below his rib cage, Vili’s hands covering Ubba’s.  Every bit of the cock that is sliding inside him is a new reverberation of pleasure, but Vili wants more, so he spreads his legs wider apart and thrusts back against Ubba, forcing the man’s cock fully inside him.  They both moan at the pleasure of Vili being filled, Ubba pressing his face in Vili’s back, kissing and dragging his teeth, wrapping one hand around Vili’s erection.  Vili is groaning and panting and pushing back against Ubba and this time he follows suit and starts thrusting into Vili.  Ubba’s free hand is sliding up Vili’s back and tangling in his hair, using his grip to hold Vili in place as he fucks into him, not even bothering with a slow build up; just thrusting deep and hard and Vili wants so badly to have something to hold on to.  He replaces Ubba’s hand on his erection with his own and slides it to press against his chest, then covers Ubba’s hand with his, pressing it against him, against his scar, and even through Ubba’s hand he can feel his heart hammering away with excitement and lust.  The pain in his chest reminding him that he is <em> here </em> and he is <em> alive </em> and this is <em> not a dream</em>.</p>
<p>And then Ubba is untangling his hand from Vili’s hair and sliding it down to Vili’s erection and Vili is so relieved because he can’t concentrate on anything else beyond Ubba filling him and the thrilling pain in his chest.  Ubba is alternately biting and kissing his shoulder and Vili lets out a loud groan, so sure now that Ubba was right, that the whole camp will hear them.  He laughs at the thought and leans back against Ubba’s chest, the slight shift in position sending a new wave of pleasure through his body and he cannot stop making noises until Ubba takes his hand puts it over Vili’s mouth.  Vili groans into Ubba’s hand, tries to bite him, still thrusting back against Ubba while he strokes his cock until he feels that perfect point of pleasure.</p>
<p>“<em>Yes,</em>” Vili moans into Ubba’s hand, his eyes watering at the pleasure rising in him until it hits that tipping point and he finds his release, his seed spilling out on Ubba’s hand, on his own leg, probably on the fur below him.  Vili mutters a <em> fuck </em> as Ubba’s hand slips from his mouth and now both of the man’s arms are wrapping around him as he thrusts wildly into Vili and he loves the feel of it even though he is completely spent and his nerves are on fire.  And Vili just lets himself melt into Ubba’s embrace, letting himself be fucked however Ubba wants it, until he too is trying to muffle the sounds of his release into Vili’s back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a while Vili just lets Ubba hold him in place against his chest until Ubba threatens to drop him to the ground if he doesn’t get there on his own, and then Vili is laughing and sliding down to the furs and Ubba is right behind him, quiet and close and warm.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The translation for the tattoos was from a Reddit user who identified the runes on the Valkyrie tattoos as lines coming from the Hávamál, one of the poems collected in the Poetic Edda, in which Odin dispenses much of his wisdom and the stories of his search for the runes and the spells that he has learned.  They also provided a direct/literal translation as to the exact wording of the runes in the tattoo, but I’ve used other translations that I am familiar with that have been adapted to read a little better than a literal translation.</p>
<p>For the thigh tattoo, clearly I made that one up, but the poetry is also from the Hávamál, to keep with the theme.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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